The Last Praetorian (14 page)

“You know, you do not look like one of our usual clients,”
Jon yelled to be heard above the noise, voicing his suspicion as he slid into
the seat opposite.  Keeping one hand close to his pistol.

“Oh?  What does your usual client look like?” The stranger
replied leaning forward so as to be heard, his voice much lighter and his eyes
twinkling with hidden laughter.  It was obvious that he was much younger than
his worn craggy features seemed to indicate.

“Oh I don’t know,” Jon replied.  “Rich?  Our usual clientele
don’t look starved, haven’t slept in a couple of days and just escaped from a
gunfight.” He motioned to the customer’s weapon, now mostly hidden under the
table.  “In addition,” Jon continued. “Our clients usually have…money.  Which
is something I am going to hazard a guess that you do not have much of?”

“I must apologise for the subterfuge,” he said reaching
across the table to offer his hand; Jon assumed the other was still resting on
his weapon. “My name is…Snow.” He made a faint wave of his hand towards his
hair.

“Your mother gave you that name… or did you grow into it?” 
Jon asked suspiciously.  Snow was taken aback for a moment before he let out a
roar of laughter.  “That’s very good!” He replied. “I have never heard that one
before and no, Snow is not my original name but it’s one that is… convenient at
the moment”.

“So what can I do for you Mr Snow?” Jon got back down to
business.  “I assume you are not interested in the logistics side of my
business?” He asked resignedly.  It was obviously not going to be one of his
better days, what with the threats from the Syndicate, the attempt on his life
and now this…

He looking around furtively to make sure that nobody could
overhear their conversation, although Jon was fairly sure that was guaranteed,
as he was sitting only a few feet away, with the two of them shouting at the
top of their voices simply to be heard over the music.   Snow leaned forward
and in a quiet whisper, Jon straining to hear, stated. “I bring a warning to
you, a warning that you need to pass on to the very highest echelon of the
Confederation. A warning of a dire threat to the future of the entire
Confederation!”

Glancing around to ensure that nobody could overhear his
response, Jon leant closer and in an even quieter voice replied. “I think you
have the wrong table.  Are you sure you don’t want the one in the corner?  He
definitely looks like the conspiracy type to me!”  With a laugh Jon pushed back
his seat and prepared to depart from this wasted trip.

With surprising speed Snow caught his wrist in a firm grip
and hissed, “I know who you really are Commander Radec.  I know how you took
command of the 37
^th
during the retreat at Lalande.  How the Emperor
promoted you, personally, to command the 58th Squadron, the youngest Commander
in the history of the fleet.”  Jon froze in shock at hearing this; the events
he described seemed like another life.  A younger more ambitious man before his
entire world had come crushing down leaving almost nothing.

“I am sorry,” Jon replied continuing to push away.  “I don’t
know whom you are talking about.”

Snow however, would not be quietened and continued.  “I know
your past and more importantly I know that you are respected in the
Confederation.  You can take this warning to the Senate and they must listen,
more importantly
she
will listen…”

However, whatever he was going to say next was lost in the
sound of weapons fire.  A bolt from a pulse rifle went flying past with a
crackle, missing Jon by inches.  Snow however, was not so fortunate, as the
bolt of energy hit Snow on the shoulder spinning him around and against the
table.  Fortunately, the fall probably saved his life, as three more beams of
energy intersected where he had been sitting, moments earlier.

Having been on a knife-edge ever since the ambush at the
asteroid belt, Jon did not pause for an instant as he used his momentum to
shove the table over and dive behind it, pulling Snow behind him.  This was
helped by the fact that Snow was already on the floor cradling his shoulder. 
Once he was sure that both were behind cover Jon reached for his pistol,
flipping the safety off and peering around the edge of the table to try and
locate their attackers.

However, in the smoke filled gloom Jon could see little.  It
would seem that their attackers had a much better idea of their location; as
Jon had to duck back behind the table quickly as half a dozen more shots
impacted the table only inches from his head!

Looking over at Snow, he noticed that the other man had
managed to get his weapon free with his left hand; obviously the damage to his
shoulder had incapacitated his right arm.  Meanwhile Jon observed the other
occupants of the club hurriedly diving for cover; trying to take shelter from
the energy bolts filling the air... all except one. 

Biting back a curse, Jon observed the blond dancer that he
had locked gazes with earlier, frozen motionless on the stage a couple of feet
away.  Cursing, Jon rolled out from behind the cover offered by the upturned
table until he was lying next to the raised stage.  Moving quickly he caught
the young woman’s wrist in a firm grip.  With a sharp tug, and a startled cry
from her, he pulled her off the stage into his arms.  Three quick strides would
have brought them back behind the table.  Unfortunately they were still one
stride short when two lucky shots caught Jon in the side, sending both Jon and
the woman spinning to the floor, fortunately momentum continued to propel them
back behind the temporary safety of the upturned table.  A quick glance in her
direction confirmed that she was unhurt.  Jon meanwhile inspected the two holes
in his flight jacket with disbelief!  That had been his favourite jacket!

“Didn’t your mother ever teach you to duck and cover, when
the shooting starts?” Jon growled at the woman.  However, the confused
expression on her face and cupping her ear demonstrated that she could not hear
what he had said over the music and gunfire.

Growling in frustration Jon released the heavy pistol that
he had been carrying and quickly sighting down the long barrel, squeezed the
trigger twice, in quick succession.  Two men that had been carrying pulse
rifles, obviously trying to outflank, them, flew backwards.  Twisting the
pistol in the direction of the source of the endless music Jon squeezed the
trigger once again, this time sending a volley of gunfire in the direction of
the speakers, which mercifully fell silent a moment later.

“Thank the Maker,” Jon exclaimed.  “I can finally hear
myself think.  Friends of yours?” He shouted at Snow above the sounds of weapons
fire. 

“Could be,” Snow replied. “Unless it is anybody that you
recognise?”  In response Jon stuck his pistol around the edge of the table and fired
off half a dozen shots, in what he could only hope was the direction of their
attackers.

“Could be,” Jon responded, throwing Snow’s own words back at
him.  Jon would not put it past the Syndicate to have another team on the
station in case their first attempt at the asteroid belt failed.  Peering
around the table Jon noticed movement towards their position, from the other
side of the room. Quickly pulling the trigger on his heavy pistol, it thundered
twice and a shadow dropped to the floor - motionless.

“Friend of yours?” Snow inquired, gesturing with his pistol
at the young, scantly clad, woman lying half underneath Jon, who he had been
trying to shield with the bulk of his body.

“We’ve only just met,” Jon replied drolly.  “Didn’t your
mother ever teach you to duck and cover, when the shooting starts?” he repeated
the question that he asked earlier, which she could not hear due to the music
and shooting.

Looking up at Jon with wide, innocent, doe- eyes she cooed,
“No, but my mother always told me to look out for tall, dark, handsome,
heroes.  I’m Felicity, what’s your name stranger?” she asked, running her hand
suggestively down Jon’s chest.

“Duck,” Jon insisted.

“Duck?”

“Yes, duck!”  Jon pushed her back down, his pistol blasting
away at the indistinct shape trying to manoeuvre for a better shot.

Snow glanced at the bulky pistol before checking for any
further motion on the other side of the room.  “You often carry an antique
around for protection?” he asked conversationally motioning towards the much
more sleek and compact energy pistol in his own hand. 

“I have a particular fondness for this one,” Jon replied in
an equal tone, switching the firing selector on the pistol from single shot to
automatic.  Reaching over their barricade and sighting in the direction of the
source of the incoming fire he depressed the trigger.  The rolling thunder of
gunfire was loud enough to deafen the attackers by itself – without the
additional carnage of the heavy calibre bullets shredding tables, chairs and
bodies.  After the clip ran dry, for a brief moment, there was complete silence
in the bar, aside from the sound of the empty shell cases hitting the floor. 
The gunfire soon resumed however, but much less intensely.

“Impressive,” Snow commented glancing once again at the
pistol.

“Indeed,” Jon agreed. “The disadvantage being that this is
my last clip.  I think that it is time for us to leave,” Jon explained,
ejecting the empty clip and inserting a fresh magazine.  Snow raised an eyebrow
at this comment and pointed to the other side of the barricade.

“I could not agree with you more, however after your last
impressive volley I do not think they are in the mood for a by-your-leave…” A
particularly heavy volley of laser fire hitting their rapidly diminishing
barricade punctuated that last point.

“Agreed,” Jon said pulling out a flat grenade from his coat
pocket. “I thought we would give them a departing present”. 

Snow eyed the grenade carefully before replying. “We are not
that far from the outer hull, if that causes a hull breach we are all going to
end up floating in space.”

“That’s why this is not an explosive,” Jon explained. “A
friend designed these babies based on an old concept called a “Flash Bang”, it
makes a bright light and incapacitating noise but no explosion.  Perfect for
use on ships and stations.” 

“Eyes closed,” Jon directed this instruction at Felicity,
prizing one of her hands away from him that had been drifting lower.  “Cover
your ears,” he instructed.

“I don’t think I have thanked you properly for saving my
life earlier,” she instead replied, and before Jon could assure her that it was
no problem she aggressively leaned forward to press her lips firmly against
his.  Taken aback by the brazen move, Jon was stunned into immobility as he
felt her soft lips pressed against his.  His arms unconsciously went around
her, enjoying the feel of her warm, endless flesh. Forgetting about their
current precarious situation for a moment, Jon was brought back to reality with
a bump by the cough from Snow next to him.

“Sorry, am I interrupting, a moment?” Snow asked
sardonically.

Prising his lips from hers, gently, but firmly, he disentangled
himself from Felicity’s grasp.  “Stay here, you’ll be safe, and by the Maker
keep your head down this time,” Jon whispered to her.  He allowed himself a
moment longer to gaze into her eyes, once again reminding himself how long he
had been alone.  However, it was not Felicity that he so desperately desired. 
He wondered what it was about being human that you always desired the one thing
most that you could never have….

Pulling the pin on the grenade Jon rolled it in the
direction of the remaining attackers before ducking back behind their makeshift
barricade.  A few seconds later a blinding light and deafening roar signalled
the detonation of the device.  Grabbing Snow by his good shoulder he pulled him
towards the exit, trying to keep low to avoid the now seemingly random weapons
fire.

Managing to make it out of the club relatively unscathed,
Jon directed them down a side corridor, quickly shoving their weapons inside
the deep pockets of his coat.  Snow seemed to be in a bad way.  A quick glance
at his shoulder, Jon could tell it was a severe wound.  The pale face and
glazed look in his eyes and the slowly increasing weight was a clear indication
that Snow was starting to lose consciousness.

Lying Snow down, as gently as possible, Jon leaned him
against the bulkhead of the corridor and checked for a pulse. It was
intermittent and weak.  Slowly reaching into his pocket Snow took out a small
data chip and dropped it into Jon’s hand. 

“Get this to the Confederation,” Snow wheezed weakly. “They
must be warned of the threat; you must tell the…” however before he could
finish the sentence his eyes closed for the last time and Jon was unable to
find a pulse.

Looking from the data chip in his hand to the body of Snow
lying against the corridor, Jon shook his head in disbelief at how badly this
day had gone.  Carefully slipping the data chip into his pocket Jon set off
quickly for the hanger containing the
‘Light
.

*****

In double quick time Jon arrived back at the
‘Light
. 
The dock master was already approaching as Jon stepped carefully into the
hanger.  Eyes darting around looking for anything or anyone out of place.

“I hope that sir had a profitable stay at
Transcendence
?”
The dock master inquired, with the sort of artificially upbeat tone of voice
that was just begging for a significant sized tip. 

Not noticing anything out of the ordinary, Jon replied
distractedly. “Could have gone better.  By the way, has anybody been asking
around for me?”

“I don’t believe so sir,” handing Jon the electronic pad
detailing the docking fee and any repair and re-supply costs.  “If I could also
recommend our premium VIP membership plan that includes a free service…” he was
abruptly cut off as Jon shoved the pad back into his hands with his
authorisation for payment and a ridiculously astronomical tip, the dock
master’s eyes widened in shock when he saw the size of the tip.